The Long Road Home
by Alex E. Andras
Summary: A collection of oneshots based on the mellon chronicles prompts, exploring the relationship of Aragorn and Legolas.
1. Beginnings

Disclaimer: I am merely a tool for the mind of my muses, and am working off the ideas of Tolkien, and therefore own nothing within these one-shots - unless there are any random characters never mentioned in his works, I own them. I write only for my enjoyment, and for others to enjoy my writing, and I appreciate that my translations, knowledge, etc may be wrong, so feel free to help correct me.

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Beginnings

Summary:_Dûnedain,_ the man had said in answer to the questions earlier. A man of the North seemed to be a likely life for this man. Legolas meets Aragorn for the first time.

And so he studied the man who walked beside him, wondering over who he was, because even with the slight limp he had, there was little of the usual clumsiness he saw in the edains, and this man held himself almost to the point of an elf. His eyes fell to the quiver at the man's back, and the sheath at his hip, trying to judge from those where the man was from. Both were worn and old, almost the complete opposite to the leather overcoat – which was only just beginning to show sign of age and use – yet all three appeared well cared for._Dûnedain,_ the man had said in answer to the questions earlier. A man of the North seemed to be a likely life for this man, though his being this far over the mountains made it seem less likely.

He realised that the man was now watching him as well, and he turned his head back to the path, eyes flickering to the trees that surrounded it, wary of any possible danger.

"What is your name, dûnadan?" he asked, mentally counting the times he's asked this question

"What is yours, elf?" came the reply for the sixth time, a hint of humour in the voice. He shook his head, lips twitching, but he managed to banish the smile from his face before it made an appearance.

"Legolas," he said eventually, they were getting nowhere by being elusive, and if he gave his name the man would give his, and he might learn more about it.

"Strider," the man said, his voice was hoarse, either seeing too much or too little use, but the tone was light, and the smile on his face was evident in his speech.

"Where do you hail from, Strider?"

"Over the mountains," a hint of longing notable in the reply

"Why are you this far East?"

"I am wandering," the smile had returned as he said this, and he suddenly let out a whistle, and both stopped.

"Thank you," Strider said, inkling his head "I may not have survived had you not come."

"Beware the evils of Mirkwood," Legolas quoted "Our spiders have grown cunning, and even the wariest of travellers may lose to them." He smiled suddenly, and then his expression changed to surprise as two horses appeared on the path before them.

One was the roan stallion that his father had gifted to him, the other was a filly dark as night. Yet what surprised him most was that she was of elvish breed, and bore a bridle but no saddle, and as the pair levelled with him and Strider, the filly nudged the adan friendly, and he saw the blue blanket that covered her, and the elvish symbols that were embroidered on one side

'All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost'

Before he could speak on the words, the edain had swung himself onto the horses back, and inclined his head again, grinning broadly.

"_Navaer_, Legolas of Mirkwood!" he said cheerfully in accent-less Sindarin "Estel Elrondion, child of Imladris, thanks you for your aid. May we meet again!"

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Translations:

_Navaer - Farewell_


	2. Middles

Middles

_Summary__: "There is nothing to forgive; there was never anything to forgive."__During LotR, Aragorn and Legolas secure they're friendship after Aragorn's arrival at Helms Deep._

"Where is he? Where is he? Get out of the way! I'm gonna kill him!"

As soon as Aragorn heard these words a tired smile appeared on his face, and he half turned to see Gimli break through the crowds and stride purposefully towards him. "You are the luckiest, canniest, and most reckless man I ever knew! Bless you laddie!" He threw his weight into the man, hugging him tightly. Aragorn suppressed the wince when pain flared in his wounds as he hugged the dwarf back.

"Gimli, where is the king?" he asked, remembering why he had ridden so hard to the keep, for there was urgent business needed attending to. Gimli pulled away from him and gestured down the corridor, trying to regain his self-control now. Aragorn nodded swiftly before rushing over, and almost collided head-on into Legolas.

"_Le ab-dollen_," the elf said calmly, taking in his friend's wounds, and the smile playing at his lips faded "You look terrible."

"Prissy elf-prince," Aragorn murmured, and the smile returned to Legolas' face. Aragorn expected that he, like Gimli, would hug him, but instead the elf merely grasped his hand, and placed the Evenstar into Aragorn's grazed palm, leaving the man to stare wordlessly at it for a moment before he grasped the watching elf's shoulder.

"_Le hannon_," he said, choking back the emotion. Legolas nodded, and the elf again looked at Aragorn's wounds.

"You really do look terrible," he said eventually, and Aragorn gave a bitter laugh

"I'm sorry my appearance is not up to elven standards," he teased gently, releasing Legolas' shoulder to continue down the corridor, but the elf immediately grasped at his arm

"Aragorn," he started "Please, your wounds need to be looked at."

"_Iston,_" the Ranger replied, "But first I must see the king; there is a trap, he must be alerted," he cocked his head to the Mirkwood elf and gave a comforting smile "I will see to my wounds as soon as the king has been told." Legolas frowned, but allowed Aragorn to continue walking while he kept pace with the man.

"You may alert the king," he informed Aragorn eventually. "But only if I may tend to your wounds straight away. _Le cenin, mellon nîn_," he added as Aragorn opened his mouth to protest, and the rest of his sentence was almost lost to Aragorn's elven-trained ears. "We thought you were dead."

The man paused at those words, turning on his heels to draw the blond into a hug, and as the surprised elf returned it he leant his head against one slim shoulder.

"I'm sorry, _mellon-nîn_," he whispered "I meant not to worry you. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive," Legolas said evenly, pulling away from Aragorn, and leading the man to the council hall Theoden currently occupied. "There was never anything to forgive."

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Translations

_Le ab-dollen – You're late_

_Le hannon – Thank you_

_Iston – I know_

_Le cenin, mellon nin – I beg of you, my friend_


	3. Ends

Ends

_Summary:_ "_I will not," Legolas whispered, though he did not promise, for he knew that he could not keep his word. Aragorn talks to Legolas before he dies._

And so Legolas sat beside the large bed, ignorant of everything around him except for the form on the bed.

"Legolas?" a soft voice called from the bed, and the elf blinked, focussing his eyes on the man lying there.

Even at two hundred and ten, the man created quite an impression. He still kept his strong appearance that he had had during the War of the Ring, and his body having hardly wasted at all thanks to his Númenor blood. But his hair and beard were both the colour of pure snow, and the silver eyes that stared back at the elf were only slightly faded, the man hardly showed anything of his age.

"I am here, Aragorn," he said eventually, reaching out with one hand and grasping one of the hands that lay on the bed sheets. He squeezed it gently, barely feeling the return, for although the man still appeared strong, his body was failing him.

"Where is Arwen?" the man asked, and Legolas blinked again, fighting back tears, for the woman had left the room in tears sometime earlier, unable to handle the sorrow she was feeling any more as she sat beside her husband's bed.

"She is with your children," he said gently, and Aragorn nodded

"Le hannon," he murmured "They do not need to be here for this." He paused, visibly struggling now "Legolas? Make sure that they do not grieve, le cenin? I want them not to grieve."

"I promise to watch over them, mellon-nín, and keep them from falling into grief," Legolas promised

"And tell the dwarf I never told you," Aragorn whispered

"Told me what?" Legolas asked, his interest piqued, but Aragorn had fallen silent. Legolas gripped the human's hand tighter still.

"Estel?" he quavered, and slowly the man's eyes opened

"Watch over the twins as well, please, Legolas?" he pleaded, eyes closing again. "They still act like elflings; they'll only land themselves in trouble."

"I will watch them like a hawk, mellon-nin," Legolas promised. "They shall not fall to mischief on my watch."

"A likely story," Aragorn muttered, a smile flitting at his lips. "Le hannon, Legolas. You are the dearest friend I could ask for. Do not grieve, for my heart cannot bear to know you will."

"I will not," Legolas whispered, though he did not promise, for he knew that he could not keep his word. Aragorn appeared to realise this to, for he merely sighed, and neither said anything more.

Legolas sat at the man's side for a few more hours before stiffly rising and exiting the room. Aragorn's brothers were sat on the floor opposite the door, and the man's children were perched on a couch, surrounding their mother. All raised their heads when the elf exited the room and closed the door behind him, and Arwen let out a cry of grief when Legolas merely bowed his head.

"He has passed then," Elladan said softly, clutching Elrohir tight. The other twin said nothing, merely buried his head into his brother's shoulder. Legolas nodded, but said nothing, and could only looked sadly in Arwen's direction, watching her children hug her before he turned and walked away from the grieving group, his heart silently weeping for his departed friend.


End file.
